Frodo Baggins: Lord of His Own Ring
by ThePet
Summary: *BOOK 1 NOW COMPLETE* Five shortarses, an effeminate elf, King Hobo, a scruffy wizard and a bloke with an enormous horn set out for Mordor...
1. So there's this ring...

Prologue: of rings and things  
  
So gather round comfortably, little children, and prepared to have the crap scared out of you by a freaky little story that will make you never want to touch jewellery or go to the movies again.  
  
So there was this hard scary bloke named Sauron, who had a little gold ring with lots of nifty powers, and with it Sauron, being a git, enslaved the free peoples of Middle Earth (read: Birmingham city centre), and the pointy eared guys didn't like it. So they and a bunch of surprisingly normal people set up an army and fought against Sauron. They were getting the shit kicked out of them until the King, Isildur (N.B. all names must be pronounced with a vague and unrecognisable accent) chopped of Sauron's finger, nicked his ring, and buggered off with it.  
  
The elves were understandably unhappy since all this did was prove to them that they'd been right all along and Men were assholes. Men were assholes in fact for some time, until Isildur finally bought it and the ring passed to a weird little creature named Gollum, nee Smeagol, who wanted it for his birthday.  
  
Unfortunately Gollum failed to keep hold of the ring, and it passed to the most unlikely of creatures: a little bloke with furry feet named Bilbo Baggins, whose name would forever be remembered in songs written by himself, the elves, and Leonard Nimoy. Bilbo was a Hobbit, and he took his ring back to the Shire, where we join him many years later as he is about to disappear at his own birthday party, thereby bemusing and annoying a large number of his fellow hobbits, and especially his nephew Frodo, who will become vaguely important later on. 


	2. So there's this hobbit...

Chapter 1  
  
So Bilbo is at his party in the middle of making a long and boring speech when he suddenly disappears.  
  
"Shit!" Says everyone. "What the hell did he put in this ale?" And Bilbo scurries off to his hobbit hole where he finds his old mate Gandalf, a scruffy wizard, lurking about, waiting for him. Gandalf convinces Bilbo to leave the ring to Little Frodo, and after all this preamble the story actually starts. Almost. First Gandalf has to wander off and pore over some papers. He figures out how to test the ring: he throws it on the fire. Now the story starts…  
  
"Do you see any markings on the ring?" Demanded Gandalf the Gay, his head compressed against the ceiling, after more preamble about fire.  
  
"No…oh hang on, yes. There's some funny writing I can't read, it's in a foreign language." Replied Little Frodo. "What is it, Gandalf?" The wizard peered at the words, written in fire upon the gold band.  
  
"It is an ancient and evil language, Frodo…the language of Bollocks, which I will not speak here."  
  
"Oh, sorry, I thought you had been." Said Frodo.  
  
"In the Common Tongue," continued Gandalf, choosing to ignore this, "it reads:  
  
"Made in Taiwan"  
  
and there followed a little poem.  
  
"Wow." Said Frodo in awe. "How did he fit all that on such a small ring?"  
  
"There's no time to explain. You must take the ring away from the Shire, to Rivendell, where some really cool and groovy elves live."  
  
"Oh, great." Muttered Frodo. "Why pick on me?"  
  
"The ring came to you." Replied Gandalf, gravely.  
  
"But I'm only little." Said Frodo.  
  
"Even the smallest person can make a difference." Quoth Gandalf. "Look at Ronnie Corbett" (A/N for non-Brits: a small comedian)  
  
"And Danny DeVito." Came a voice with a classically yokel accent from outside the window. Gandalf reached out and, grabbing the speaker by the short and curlies, dragged him right through the window.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee!" He cried. "You were spying, weren't you? Now tell the truth - you little git - how much did you hear?"  
  
"Oh, not much." Whimpered Sam. "Just a lot of stuff about elves and rings. Nothing important. Please don't turn me into anything unnatural, Mr. Gandalf sir."  
  
"Such as a strawberry flavoured, foot long condom?" Suggested Gandalf. Sam shuddered.  
  
"Don't worry." The wizard assured him. "I've got a better use for you…"  
  
And so Sam went off with Frodo to see the elves. At this point Gandalf buggered off for a bit, telling the hobbits he would meet them at the Pissed Pony in Bree, or possibly the Boiled Horse in Danish Blue. He also warned Sam to keep on eye on Frodo, lest he be turned into a condom, or more likely kidnapped and/or horribly murdered by some scary dudes on big black horses. So Sam and Frodo set off, conversing inanely, and on the way met a double act called Pippin and Merry, or Little and Littler as they were often affectionately known. Pippin and Merry decided to go with their friends to Bree.  
  
The journey was not entirely easy; on the way the hobbits got chased by faceless guys on black horses who screamed a lot, and met up with various people who weren't mentioned in the film and hence can't be important. At last they found the Pissed Pony but alas, Gandalf the Gay was not there.  
  
"Gandalf, Gandalf…" mused the innkeeper when Frodo asked about him. "Ah yes…old scruffy bloke, spent most of his time sitting in the corner eyeing up the talent. I remember. He hasn't been here in six months, since I barred him for coming on to one of the waiters."  
  
"Frodo." Hissed Merry suddenly. "There's a scary bastard over there who keeps staring at us." Frodo looked over there; there was indeed a grim, brooding sort of bloke, gazing at him intently.  
  
"Who's that?" Frodo asked the bartender.  
  
"Who's what?"  
  
"That bloke over there, the one with the constipated expression on his face."  
  
"That be the Lone Ranger." Said the bartender, slipping into some form of dodgy vernacular. "We also call him Strider."  
  
"Why does he look at me like that?" Whispered Little Frodo fearfully.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like this." Said Frodo, crossing his eyes.  
  
"He looks at everyone like that." Replied the man in a low voice. "He's got piles."  
  
"Poor thing." Said Sam. For no reason at all, Frodo fell off a chair, accidentally putting on the ring; he was immediately dragged upstairs by the Ranger with piles, who looked irate.  
  
"I know what you carry, O little fart." Said the Ranger. "You ought to draw less attention to yourself. Now listen up. I'm a friend of Gandalf the Gay, and I'll go with you on your quest and protect you from the Really Scary Bastards, also known as Ringwraiths."  
  
"Ok." Said Frodo, who was very gullible, at least at this stage. So the four hobbits and the tall guy with piles set off, dodging Black Riders and the bill.  
  
Of course at some point Frodo had to get stabbed, mutilated or in other ways abused; in fact this will happen on many occasions, the poor little sod, and this is the first of them: he got stabbed by a Ringwraith, and boy was he in trouble, because it went septic. Unfortunately no one was in much of a position to do anything about it, apart from Strider, who turned out to be a great fan of Alan Titchmarsh and was able to instruct Sam to find a certain curing plant, which he then proceeded to chew before sticking it into Frodo's gaping wound.  
  
"You dirty git." Said Sam in disgust. But Strider was looking grave; yes, he had turned into a six foot long hole in the ground!  
  
"He's about to kick it." Said the Man bluntly. But fortunately for him a random elf turned up and began talking Bollocks at Frodo.  
  
"We need to get him to Rivendell." Said the random elf. "Tell you what, I'll bugger off on a big white horse while you guys walk. Fair?" And so that is what they did. 


	3. So there's this Fellowship...

Chapter Three: The Council of Elrond  
  
So Frodo woke up in Rivendell. The first thing he saw was a grey haired wizard smoking pot at the end of his bed.  
  
"Woah." Said Frodo, "how the hell did I get here? And where is here? And please also tell me the exact time and date, because I really need to know that."  
  
"It isn't important. What matters is that you're not actually dead, now we'd better get on with it before this becomes the longest spoof in history. You're in the House of Elrond…"  
  
"If that's what I think it is I want nothing to do with it!" Cried Frodo. "I'm pure and innocent…I have enormous eyes…I will not be corrupted!"  
  
"Eh? Said Gandalf, but mercifully the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Sam, who threw himself on Frodo (oo-er).  
  
"Sam has hardly left your side." The wizard explained. "He copped a feel several times while you were unconscious. So did I, in fact."  
  
"Hmm." Said Frodo, but before he could object Elrond himself arrived. He was a long, thin, droopy sort of elf with a perpetually miserable expression and, like all his kin, extremely effeminate hair and very pointy ears.  
  
"Yo, Spock, how's it hangin'?" Gandalf greeted their host. Only a great wizard could be so familiar with a such a dignified elf, thought Frodo, impressed.  
  
"You'd better get up, shortarse." Elrond addressed Frodo directly. "We're having a meeting. Ten minutes, by the big stone thing, be there or be square." And he wandered off, doubtless to braid his hair before the big powwow. Sam stared after him.  
  
"Somehow he ain't quite what I expected, Mr. Frodo." (insert yokel vernacular here)  
  
"And his name sounds vaguely rude." Agreed Frodo.  
  
And so Frodo and Gandalf went off to Elrond's council, where a large group of random people was waiting for them. It included: Bilbo, who was looking pretty wrinkly, Strider, still in the guise of a scruffy Ranger (even though everyone must surely have figured the truth by now), Elrond himself (of course), a bunch of other elves, one of which Frodo thought was a girl until he noticed that he had a very long bow: this last was called Legolas, obviously his mother had it in for him from birth. To the elf's left sat an ugly little git whom Frodo recognised as a dwarf, and who apparently was called 'Groin'. To the right of Legolas sat a grey-eyed man in a state of perpetual sulk. Legolas was trying to engage him in conversation.  
  
"What an enormous horn you have!" The elf cooed, patting it. The sulking man gave him a dirty look and inched away.  
  
"Now then, settle down!" Cried Elrond, climbing onto a soap box. "There are one or two notices I'd like to give before calling upon some of you to go off on a perilous journey with Shortarse here to take a sinister ring to Mount Doom in the land of Mordor (read: Birmingham Bull Ring).  
  
"Firstly, the guy to my left is not a homeless but is in fact the King of Men, called Aragorn." The sulky chap with the enormous horn blew a loud raspberry.  
  
"Secondly, the hard bastard sitting next to Legolas is Boromir, from the South: he wants to tell us all about a dream he's been having. Please welcome Boromir to the show, ladies and gentlemen." There was a brief round of applause. Boromir got to his feet.  
  
"Well, its like this, Elrond. My brother and I have been having the same dream for many nights."  
  
"So you're sleeping with your brother"? Mused Elrond.  
  
"That's not important. In this dream, there is a great eye – yea, even a pair of eyes, a pair of eyes that are fiery red and greatly bozzed. And each eye forms a ring of fire, and out of the ring steps Johnny Cash, and twenty naked dancing ladies. What does this mean, O great elf?" Elrond had been analysing the dream with great attention. Finally he said,  
  
"It means you want to sleep with your mother. That'll be five hundred deutschmarks. On with the show." Boromir paid up and sat down, then suddenly sprang up again and for no apparent reason began verbally abusing the rest of the gathering; Legolas, Aragorn and some random elves began to talk Bollocks at one another; Elrond looked very pissed off; Gandalf insulted Boromir's mother; Boromir began sniffling; and in the midst of it all, Frodo stood up and said in a small but firm voice,  
  
"Shut the fuck up!" After he had screamed this several times, everyone did, and turned to stare at him. There were many cries of,  
  
"Shut it yourself, Shortarse!" But Elrond insisted,  
  
"Let the Halfling speak."  
  
"Er…well that was it really." Frodo admitted. "You're giving me a headache. Can't I just leave the ring here and go home?"  
  
"Ring?" Said everyone, puzzled.  
  
"Oh, did I forget to mention that?" Murmured Elrond. "D'oh!" And thence followed a long explanation with many flashbacks and special effects.  
  
"Cor!" Said everyone at the end of it. "What now?"  
  
"Well, now someone has to take the ring to Mordor, and throw it into the fires of Mount Doom, like that prat Isildur should have done a couple of thousand years ago. It would have saved all this trouble."  
  
"Do we really have to go to Mordor?" Quavered an elf.  
  
"Let's not and say we did." Suggested another.  
  
"We could make up a song about it." Added a third.  
  
"No, no! The ring must be destroyed." Elrond was firm on this.  
  
"Just a minute." Boromir put in, putting away his handkerchief. "Why don't we keep the ring?"  
  
"Eh?" Said everyone, suspiciously, Boromir being an obviously dodgy git.  
  
"Well, we could use the enemy's weapon against him." The Man went on, turning to Frodo. "Please can I have your ring, Frodo?"  
  
"No!" Cried the hobbit.  
  
"You can have mine." Legolas offered coquettishly. Boromir decided to sit somewhere else.  
  
"Right then, you bunch of cowardly bastards," exclaimed Elrond, "Frodo can go to Mordor…"  
  
"Thanks very much." Said Frodo.  
  
"…along with a Fellowship to protect the ring. And, er, him as well, of course. Who will go with Frodo, and face horrible death?" There was a long, protracted silence. Groin (or whatever his name was) muttered something about attending his mother's funeral.  
  
"But your mother isn't dead!" Cried his son Gimli (more of whom later).  
  
"She will be if I kill her."  
  
"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Aragorn stood to his full height, then stooped again to address Frodo.  
  
"I'll come with you, little chap, and I'll protect you with my life."  
  
"You patronising git." Said Frodo. Eventually of course everyone wanted to go, and Elrond selected nine: of which, one was actually useful in having magical powers (Gandalf the Gay and his day-glo staff); two could fight (Aragorn and Boromir, who was being allowed to join the company on the promise of trying to steal the ring while carrying an enormous sign marked 'plot'); one was an utter girl (no explanation needed); one yet another shortarse, this one with an axe (Gimli, son of Groin); and four of them the least useful creatures you might want with you in a scrap: yes, all the hobbits were going as well, apart from Bilbo who was too wrinkly. They were afraid bits of him might drop off.  
  
"Right then," said Elrond happily – he was relieved he didn't have to go – "that's sorted. You shall be known as the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
And so the Company set off, singing rude songs as they marched: Frodo with his ring, Gandalf with his staff, Aragorn with his immensely useful broken sword, Legolas with his girly bow, Gimli with his axe, and Boromir with his Oedipus complex and a box of Kleenex. The hobbits trailed behind ineffectually, occasionally being carried over the muddy bits. And thus the Fellowship was forged. 


	4. So there's this dead wizard...

A/N Thanks to all you lovely people who've reviewed so far! Hope you like the next part  
  
Chapter Four  
  
So the Fellowship's setting out into danger and darkness etc. singing crude songs about nuns. They walked in line along a snowy path: Gandalf the Gay in front, being Mr. Well-ard Leader Wizard; Aragorn son of Arathorn son of Someone Else son of Aramis son of Zooble and so on a so forth till we eventually get to Isildur, walked a few paces behind him. The hobbits spent most of their time falling into snowdrifts and being carried by larger members of the company; Frodo was beginning to look less innocent and frolicky and more glum and brooding, sort of like an Aragorn Mini-Me. Gimli also fell into snowdrifts but refused assistance on the grounds that 'no one carries a dwarf' so they just let him get on with it.  
  
Borormir walked behind Frodo and admired his ring. Halfway up the mountain Frodo fell unexpectedly upon his little hobbit arse, inexplicably managing to drop the all-important ring of power, resulting in a three-day search in the snow. The ring was, inevitably, found by Boromir who tried to nick it; he was scolded by Aragorn and burst into tears. He will spend the rest of the parody sulking.  
  
So the Fellowship was sitting around on some rocks having breakfast when suddenly a big flock of birdies flew towards them.  
  
"Run away!" Screamed Aragorn. "Hide!" So the nine, chosen representatives of their respective races and supposed hard bastards, hid under some rocks like girls while the birds flew past.  
  
"The budgerigars of Saruman!" Whispered Gandalf.  
  
"Huh?" Said everyone.  
  
"Oh, did I forget to say? He's gone evil. He's working for Sauron now, as a lumberjack-cum-genetic engineer."  
  
Meanwhile in the shadow of a spooky great tower Saruman was watching a load of ugly gits pulling up trees and singing 'I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK…'.  
  
"Oh right." Said the Fellowship.  
  
So they battled on through the snow, carrying hobbits to and fro, occasionally getting buried, freezing half to death etc. for some considerable time, until Gandalf realised he was being stupid and Gimli was right after all: they should go to the mines of Moria. Never mind that they would probably meet their deaths. They followed Gandalf cheerfully enough to a large door set in rock with some writing in ancient Bollocks upon it.  
  
"Great, they're shut." Said Boromir the Pessimistic. "What now?" Gandalf, berating the man of the South for being a dick, informed him that he had entered via a different route last time, something like the car park at Merry Hill. Boromir rightly thought this to be something of a cop out. Gandalf sat on a rock for a long time, trying to figure out the password, until realising that the writing was a riddle all along: all h had to do was say the Bollocks word for 'friend' and they could get in. Isn't he clever?  
  
"Harry Potter could've worked that one out." Grumbled Merry and Pippin, because they wanted some lines. Then of course Frodo had to get pointlessly attacked by a large sea creature – all Boromir's fault again. But they rescued him and went inside the mines.  
  
It looked like a game of Dungeons and Dragons, but never mind. It was very spooky and unpleasant and stinky, but the brave fellowship toiled on.  
  
Gimli was becoming increasingly confused by the bodies of his people littering the floor, pierced with goblin arrows.  
  
"Hmm." He said thoughtfully. "Some party they've been having." Of course once they reached the tomb of his cousin Balin, he realised the truth, and had a complete hysterical fit, while Gandalf did a spot of reading and some drums went 'doom!' 'doom!' in a very atmospheric and prophetic way.  
  
Pippin being stupid managed to drop a skeleton down a well and thus alerted the enemy to the Fellowship's presence. Aragorn obeyed his natural royal instincts by screaming  
  
"Run away!" But it was too late…  
  
A tremendous noise could be heard from outside, and Boromir the Brave-But- Thick decided to open it; an enormous ugly looking thing with a club was lurking dangerously outside. Boromir slammed the door and flung himself against it.  
  
"Whatthefuckisit?" He shrieked. And opened the door for another look. "They have a cave troll." He announced more recognisably, and the Fellowship verily shit themselves. A moment later the big ugly troll came charging through the door, and everyone, realising the futility of running away this time, began to hack at it with all the weapons they could find – for most of them this meant swords and axes, but Legolas struck the killing blow: he smacked the troll across the head with his handbag, and it fell dead.  
  
"Thank Christ for that." Muttered Aragorn, coming out from under Balin's corpse, where he had been hiding. "What now?"  
  
"Run away!" Shrieked everyone. And so they did.  
  
After going a short distance however more scary noises and lots of big flamey things started emerging from the mines, and the Fellowship shit themselves once again.  
  
"Whatthefuckisit?" Boromir asked Gandalf.  
  
"There are more terrible things in these mines than orcs." Replied the wizard darkly – and he was right.  
  
"Ai! Ai!" Screamed Legolas. "Tolkien fans! Tolkien fans have come!" And indeed a grim looking bunch of people could be seen approaching, carrying books and babbling in Bollocks about inaccuracies in the movie.  
  
"Shit!" Cried the Fellowship, and without prompting from Gandalf began to run away.  
  
They soon came to a broken bridge, threw the hobbits across it, and made to chuck Gimli over as well. At once he uttered the only good line he got in the film:  
  
"No one tosses a dwarf!" And leaped across himself; Legolas tried to drag him to safety by the beard, all the while with Gimli complaining,  
  
"No one rescues a dwarf from a hideous fate worse than death!" But they did.  
  
They came to the exit; Gandalf, telling everyone to run away, stood facing the seething mass of Tolkien fans alone. Forgetting himself Aragorn shouted, "Elendil!" And ran back to him. Almost immediately he realised that this was a stupid thing to do and crying "run away!" abandoned Gandalf to his fate. The last thing the Fellowship saw was Gandalf plummeting many feet into darkness, with Tolkien fans on all sides.  
  
"Shit, Gandalf's dead." Said the Fellowship when they finally stopped running some hours later. "What now?" Aragorn frowned broodingly, trying to look hard.  
  
"I will lead you." He said.  
  
"Oh Christ we're done for." Said everyone else.  
  
"At least," said Legolas, "we must be close to Mordor by now. We've travelled many miles. How far have we come, Aragorn?" Aragorn pulled out a Patent Pop-up map of Middle Earth and studied it.  
  
"We're travelled about five hundred miles." He replied. "Not bad."  
  
"So where are we now?" Asked Frodo. Aragorn frowned and reconsulted the map; he began to do complicated calculations on a scrap of paper. Eventually he looked up.  
  
"Well, taking into account all the running away, we're approximately…" he clicked his tongue, "a hundred yards from where we started." And indeed looking behind them the Fellowship could see Elrond waving to them from his doorstep.  
  
"Get a move on, you cowardly bastards!" He shouted. "This film's long enough already!"  
  
"He's right." Said Frodo. "Maybe we really should think about going to Mordor…"  
  
And so they did. 


	5. So there's this elf-infested forest...

So there's this elf-infested forest…  
  
  
  
So the Fellowship went to Lothlorien, feeling really depressed and no longer singing crude songs. Pippin and Merry tried to cheer everyone up with an old sea-shanty:  
  
It was on the good ship Venus  
  
By Christ you should have seen us  
  
The figurehead was a whore in bed  
  
And the mast was a rampant penis*  
  
But no one was very interested, and so they gave up when they got to the captain's wife Mabel ('to fuck she wasn't able').  
  
"So this is a big elfy forest." Said Frodo. "Wow."  
  
"You're getting very jaded and cynical, Frodo." Remarked Aragorn. "Watch it, you'll end up like me, a lone Ranger."  
  
"Look at the beauty of the woods and scent the delightful smell of perfume in the air." Warbled Legolas. "The prettiest of my people live here, and they're all available."  
  
"Woo-hoo." Muttered the cynical and jaded Frodo. "Like I'm interested in elves." Sam looked pleased.  
  
"Bloody elves." Muttered Gimli. "Effeminate bastards." He was quite right and not made to eat his words at all, because at that moment an elf who looked remarkably like Julian Clary emerged from trees, waving a long bow. Legolas ran to him and they proceeded to kiss each other on both cheeks.  
  
"Darling! Haven't seen you for simply ages!"  
  
"You look divine, my dear! Your cellulite has cleared up wonderfully."  
  
"And I love the hair, what have you done to it? Is that Timotei?"  
  
"Why yes, it is."  
  
This went on for some considerable time. The Fellowship followed the elves slowly through the wood. Eventually they were taken to a clearing and told to wait for the Queen.  
  
"Here she comes!" Exclaimed Aragorn. "Galadriel, elf witch, queen of the wood." A tall woman with startling blonde hair drifted mistily down some dodgy looking marble stairs.  
  
"Galaddriel?" repeated Boromir looking confused. "That's not Galadriel…that's Lily Savage!" He was right. The elf witch addressed them in a deep bass with a Liverpool accent.  
  
"'Ow are yer? Welcome to Lothlorien, 'ello sexy." She added to Aragorn. "You've come a long way, 'aven't yer? Well. Where's old Gandy then? I wanted a bit of a chat with 'im."  
  
"Gandalf the Gay fell off a bridge in the mines of Moria." Said Aragorn sadly.  
  
"Well, that's a bugger, isn't it?" Replied the elf witch. "Ah well." She peered intently at each of the Fellowship in turn, obviously eyeing them up, then spoke to each telepathically.  
  
All right, Strider, you scruffy bleeder? Don't worry, as long as you don't bollocks up the quest you'll be King once again. You, you shall be King. And I, I will be Queen. And we shall be heroes, we shall be heroes, just for one day**  
  
"Thanks very much." Said Aragorn.  
  
And you, fellow elf. You really ought to try Loreal, y'know. Because you're worth it.  
  
"Ooh, I know." Said Legolas.  
  
Now, Gimli, son of Groin, shortarse with a big axe. Don't like us elves do yer? Well then, you'll end of shagging Legolas so there  
  
"Urgh." Said Gimli son of Groin.  
  
And as for you, sexy…I know what you're after. You're after Frodo's ring, aren't you, Boromir? Well, I can get it for you if you want. And your old man and that city you keep making long speeches about will be great once more. By the way 'ere's me phone number, give us a ring after the show  
  
Boromir started sniffling again.  
  
And little Meriadoc Brandybuck and little Peregrin Took…some day you will form a society, the ERGH society, Equal Rights for Gay Hobbits. And guess who your president will be?  
  
"Who?"  
  
Samwise Gamgee.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Elf?"  
  
Sam, you will some day get your 'ands on Frodo's ring. Only for a bit mind. Sam began to look very excited.  
  
But then he'll bugger off again and you'll have to get married. But some day, you will come out of the closet…but that's in the x-rated version.  
  
"Ooh-er!" Said Sam.  
  
And the ring-bearer…Frodo son of Drogo, son of Dingo, son of Modo, son of Blee-eekbardigratmabberly the fourth…  
  
"Eh? Sorry, I wasn't listening. Have you seen my eyes? They're enormous aren't they?"  
  
very. Now shut your gob and listen. You will go forth to Mordor and do exciting things with Samwise. You will make writers of slash fiction on the internet exceedingly happy . You will stare into my deep moist one  
  
"Eh?" Said Frodo. "Oh, ok."  
  
not that you pervy little git. I mean my mirror. And see horrors beyond your wildest imaginings, so there. But don't worry. Everything will be fine. This is a kid's film after all.  
  
Then they went off for a bit of a kip. Some elves started singing in Bollocks.  
  
"What's that?" Asked Merry.  
  
"A Lament for Gandalf." Replied Legolas.  
  
"What do they say about him?" Asked Pippin.  
  
"I cannot tell you." The elf said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's bloody awful." Said Legolas.  
  
What they were actually singing is this:  
  
Lament for Gandalf (the Gay)  
  
Poor old Gandalf  
  
Grey of head  
  
Fell off a bridge  
  
And now he's dead  
  
Oh dear  
  
  
  
Now then." Said Elf Lily Savage, when they got up the next morning. "I've got a present for you all." She gave Aragorn a bit of sellotape to mend his sword; thus it was forged anew, and he gave it a new name, 'Roger'. Boromir got a new handkerchief (containing Lily's mobile number and a strawberry-flavoured condom), Legolas got an aromatherapy bath set, Gimli got a kick up the arse for being a dwarf. Pippin and Merry got a big bag of 'scran'. Frodo got a lightbulb. And Sam got some dirt, with which he seemed bizarrely happy.  
  
"Thanks very much." Said everyone. Then they buggered off in long boats to meet their fate, Legolas complaining for reasons no one understood that he was scared of the sea, and vomiting over the rest of the Fellowship as they sailed along the river. Off course the hobbits didn't do any rowing for themselves, because they're useless.  
  
  
  
* A/N The little song is from a traditional…ahem…piece called 'Friggin in the Riggin' as immortalised by the Sex Pistols on their album 'The Great Rock N' Roll Swindle'.  
  
** A/N David Bowie, 'Heroes'. 


	6. So there's this stiff called Boromir...

So there's this stiff called Boromir…  
  
So the Fellowship sailed along the river and Aragorn got very excited pointing out statues of his relatives.  
  
"There's Umbledygook, and Imglingit, and great aunty Mabel…"  
  
"Wow." Said the cynical and jaded Frodo, sarcastically.  
  
Soon they arrived at a river bank and got off the dinky little boats. Frodo wandered off by himself, which was a stupid thing to do, because Boromir followed him and began to menace him again about his ring.  
  
"Give me your ring, Frodo."  
  
"No!" Cried the hobbit, sitting down firmly on a log.  
  
"Gimme, you little git!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Come on, you bugger!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Please?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll be your friend."  
  
"Go away."  
  
"Ah, go on."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ah, you will."  
  
"No."  
  
"Ah, go on." Said Boromir, turning into Mrs. Doyle*. "Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…"  
  
"Fuck off!" Cried Frodo eventually in despair. "It's my ring and I'm taking it to Mordor to have it destroyed, so there, and sucks to you and your Oedipus complex."  
  
"Right then!" Cried Boromir, towering over the hobbit. "I'm going to kick your miniature ass into next week, you little bastard."  
  
"Like to see you try!" Said Frodo and regretted it, for Boromir was a big hard bastard and Frodo but a little hobbit. Boromir threw himself at Frodo (oo-er) and missed…because Frodo had PUT ON THE EVIL NASTY RING! (Gasp) Boromir whimpered in bewilderment and stumbled about being thick; Frodo, invisible, kicked him viciously in the bollocks, the little git, and Boromir collapsed, sniffling. Frodo ran off in a state of shock.  
  
"Frodo, come back…I'm sorry, I'll take my medication, it won't happen again…" sobbed Boromir, blowing his nose on a strawberry flavoured condom.  
  
Meanwhile the rest of the Fellowship sat around a fire on the riverbank, playing 'snap'.  
  
"Wonder where Frodo's got to." Remarked Aragorn idly.  
  
"Do you think he's all right, Strider?" Asked Sam in slashy concern. Aragorn frowned broodingly.  
  
"Stop calling me Strider, you little prat, I'm a king."  
  
"Well, I'm going to find poor Mr. Frodo." Said Sam decisively, and ran off.  
  
"I suppose we'd better help." Said Gimli.  
  
"But I'm curling my hair!" Wailed Legolas. The others ignored him and headed off towards the Big Scary Forest With Bits of Stone Head Everywhere. They ran into Boromir who was lying on the ground clutching his wounded bollocks.  
  
"Well?" Said Aragorn, sounding like a schoolmaster.  
  
"Had a row with the little guy." Said Boromir, sniffling. "He kicked me in the bollocks and ran off."  
  
"D'oh!" Said Aragorn. "We'd better find him." Aragorn did of course find him, lurking by the riverbank.  
  
"I'm going to Mordor on my own." Said Frodo. "You lot of bastards can't be trusted." Aragorn, being kingly and all that, wasn't offended. In fact he was rather pleased that he didn't have to go to Mordor, which sounded evil and nasty, a bit like the sea front at Morecambe in the middle of winter.  
  
"You're right. But look at it from Boromir's point of view: first he gets an inferior part which means being killed off in the first movie, then he goes mad and gets booed by the audience, then he gets kicked in the bollocks…he's had a hard time of it really."  
  
"He's had a hard time! What about me? I go from being sweet and innocent and happy with my big eyes to being jaded and cynical and depressed all the time…and then what? What do I get at the end of it, Aragorn? I've read the book you know…I'm going to end up in Eastbourne!"  
  
"At least you get paid for all three movies."  
  
"That's hardly the point…well maybe it is…anyway at least you don't have to do slashy bits with other hobbits!"  
  
"No, I get to do slashy bits with Boromir."  
  
"Hmph. Maybe you do have a bit of a raw deal at that. But we're getting beside the point, which is: I'm going to Morecambe – I mean Mordor – by myself, on my own, to destroy this dratted ring!"  
  
"Ok." Said Aragorn, which was a bit of an anti-climax. He gave Frodo a bit of paper with a mobile number scrawled on it. "If you get into trouble, you know who to call..."  
  
"Thanks." Said Frodo, touched.  
  
"…Legolas." Finished Aragorn. Well, bye then."  
  
Heading back to the Scary Forest, Aragorn spotted Boromir having a bit of a kip against a tree; getting closer he realised that his fellow hard bastard wasn't sleeping at all but was punctured with many arrows. Aragorn was distraught – why, he had missed the most exciting battle of the film! He knelt beside Boromir.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
"Like a bloody great pin cushion." The mighty warrior groaned.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You're sorry!"  
  
"Don't worry." Comforted Aragorn. "I'm sure a beautiful woman is around somewhere to nurse you back to health, shag you and then die or run off with someone of higher birth" **  
  
"No…" Boromir was now trying all out for the Oscar, knowing this was his last chance. "Leave it. It is over."  
  
"Fuck me! That was almost a line from the film!" Exclaimed Aragorn.  
  
"Barely. Anyway, where was I?" A young girl ran in with a script.  
  
"Ok, ok…here we are…make a depressing speech about how orcs ran off with the other hobbits." She ran off again.  
  
"That was Mary-Sue, the prompt." Said Aragorn. Boromir took a breath and prepared his death-speech.  
  
"The orcs ran off with Pippin and Merry." He said. "It's so depressing."  
  
"Oh dear. Not your fault, pet."  
  
"Thanks. But anyway…I have to die now. Right, here goes, should be worth a BAFTA at least…" the set became very quiet. Aragorn bowed his head sadly and took Boromir's hand.  
  
"I would have followed you," whispered Boromir. "My brother…my captain…my…"  
  
And his mobile went off.  
  
"Shit!" Exclaimed Boromir. "There goes the Golden Globe at any rate."  
  
"To be fair you hadn't got much chance anyway."  
  
"Says you."  
  
"Gentlemen, please!" Cried Mary-Sue. "The rest of the film's an anti- climax, we have to make this bit good. Ok, go again."  
  
This time the death speech was successfully accomplished, though Boromir twitched slightly when Aragorn kissed him full on the lips.  
  
"No, no!" Mary-Sue complained. "On the forehead, Aragorn, this isn't that type of movie!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
At this point Legolas and Gimli turned up, where they fuck had they been?"  
  
"Problems?" Asked Gimli.  
  
"Boromir's dead."  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Ooh, nice one, Boromir." Exclaimed the elf, leaning forward to pluck out an arrow from the fallen warrior's lifeless body. "I was just running out."  
  
"You haven't shot anything in the entire parody, you nancy git." Said Gimli.  
  
"Don't forget I'll be shagging you later." Retorted Legolas, and Gimli grimaced.  
  
Boromir then departed to the Green Room where Gandalf the Gay was waiting for him. Mary-Sue put a dressing-gown around Boromir's shoulders.  
  
"How was I, Gandy?" He cried.  
  
"Wonderful, darling! Absolutely wonderful! It'll be theatre next…Shakespeare…" he draped an arm around Boromir's shoulders as they walked off together.  
  
"You'd make a wonderful Macbeth," Gandalf continued, "I should know, I've played him myself…I'll put in a word for you with the RSC…"  
  
Meanwhile some of the rest of the cast were still acting. Frodo was pushing off a boat into the river, on his way to Mordor, when Sam ran up behind him and started to shout slashy things in his yokel accent.  
  
"I'm coming with you!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm coming with you!"  
  
"Say again? I can't hear you over the sound effects!"  
  
"Oh for Christ's sake…" Sam jumped into the water, almost drowning, in an attempt to make the ending seem like less of an anti-climax. Frodo pulled him out though. He gets to be in the next film. The hobbits had some touching slashy moments in the boat, which Mary-Sue curtailed for fear of raising the film's rating to a twelve (or PG-13 which I assume is the US equivalent) and losing money.  
  
"I'm coming." Said Sam.  
  
"That's quite enough of that!" Cried Mary-Sue.  
  
"I meant, I'm coming to Mordor, Mr. Frodo. You'll need someone to give you piggy back rides after all."  
  
"Aw." Said Frodo. "How sweet. I'm glad you're with me, Sam." And on this slashy note, the film abruptly ended, leaving audience members in a state of bewildered expectancy.  
  
  
  
  
  
*A/N for the uninitiated: Mrs. Doyle = priest's housekeeper in Irish TV show 'Father Ted.' She continually offers people cups of tea and when they refuse…  
  
"Ah, go on. Ah, you will. Ah, go on. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on…" and she does. Go on, that is. Very funny, if you haven't seen it and you're not easily offended by blasphemy give it a try.  
  
** A/N C.F. the excellent TV series 'Sharpe' (based on Bernard Cornwell's historical novels), starring Sean Bean. Swashbuckling Richard Sharpe spends most of his time killing French soldiers, shagging and getting 'mortally' wounded, then nursed back to health by random mute women (that's life eh?).  
  
  
  
A/N Well! So ends the first part of the parody! Will Frodo and Sam get to Mordor? Will Boromir get his Oscar? Will Gandalf? Will Frodo become attached to his ring, or throw it into the flames? Does anyone care? Does anyone want me to continue this? I'll happily cover the next two books, this is fun! (manic grin)  
  
Final A/N This is dedicated to Spike Milligan, King of Parody Writing! If you haven't read his versions of Lady Chatterly's Lover, Hound of the Baskervilles, Frankenstein and The Bible…well, you really really should.  
  
Feedback please!!!! ( Hated it, liked it? Am I a dodgy bugger? Shall I write some more? 


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